


Kitchen Talk

by SYNdicate930



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Mark Lee suffers, One Shot, Sexual Humor, johnten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17367014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SYNdicate930/pseuds/SYNdicate930
Summary: In which Mark sits Johnny and Ten down to discuss their sex life.OR“Have you tried knocking before entering?”“Who the fuck knocks before going into the kitchen for water at two in the afternoon?”“Me.”“What the fuck. Why?”“Because Yuta and Winwin hate it when I walk in on them.”





	1. Kitchen Talk

**12:48**

**Jaehyun (12:33):** Bro come out

 **Johnny (12:36):** I’m so tired

 **Jaehyun (12:37):** We finally have a day off and no curfew, brooooooo

 **Johnny (12:46):** Next time man

 **Johnny (12:46):** I just need a rest lol

 **Jaehyun (12:46):** All good dude

 **Jaehyun (12:47):** Text me if you end up coming out though. We’re going to get drinks tonight

 **Johnny (12:48):** Ayyyy sounds good

The dorm is devoid of life save for Johnny, who is mindlessly channel surfing on the living room couch, Ten, who is on the verge of falling asleep on the floor in front of the television, and Mark. The others have left to do something with their first day off in what feels like forever; shopping, visiting a nearby cafe or restaurant, wandering about, basking in the first days of an already sweltering summer - all sound wonderful, and very much needed.

However, Johnny can’t seem to break free of the exhaustion that weighs upon him.

Neither can Ten.

Ten’s stomach growls.

Somehow, in spite of the humid weather outside, Johnny is bundled up in his favorite hoodie and sweats. He is about to fall asleep when Mark enters the living room, taking his place directly in front of the television and Ten’s unmoving figure. Based upon Ten’s lack of reaction, Johnny guesses he’s already fallen asleep.

“Johnny, Ten, we need to talk.”

****

**12:57**

“Mark, what’s the matter -”

“Sit.” There is an unexpected aggression which underlines his demeanor and voice, which has grown noticeably quiet, nearly diminished if not for the sharpness which punctuates his tone. This takes Johnny aback. Surprised, he drops to the edge of Mark’s bed.

Beside him, Ten, who does not notice the switch in Mark’s behaviour, relaxes on his stomach with a yawn, resting his elbows into one of Mark’s pillows as his hands support his head at the chin. His hair is hidden beneath a beanie, and the undone flannel he sports is so large, Mark initially mistakes it for a blanket draped over Ten’s back. A mixture of a deep green base, interrupted by black patches to provide depth, and crisp red and yellow lines to accent the garment radiate a sensation of familiarity, followed briskly by recognition. It’s Johnny’s, Mark realizes. He’s not surprised.

Mark is somewhat peeved his effort to make his bed as nicely as Doyoung’s has been thwarted by Ten’s restless half-rolling and semi-tumbling atop his comforter, but there are greater issues to be discussed. He’ll fix that later, before Doyoung gets back.

He’s had roughly just over a week to string something intelligible together, but every possible manner of addressing the topic at hand has become overtly muddled by a combination of nerves and a biting sensation of awkwardness. Perhaps, it would have been in Mark’s better interest to have invested a moment or two in rehearsing, collecting his admittedly scattered thoughts, or brainstorming a feasible way of approaching the issue he has: them. But it’s far too late now.

Mark stands at the foot of the bed. His eyes flicker between Johnny’s anticipating expression, and Ten’s blank stare. Neither men have a clue as to why they’ve been summoned into Mark’s - and Doyoung’s - immaculately clean room.

He takes a deep breath. “So, you’re both probably wondering why you’re here.”

“Is something wrong?” Johnny inquires, confusing Ten.

“Why would anything be wrong? I thought we were here to make dinner plans for tonight.” Ten comments.

Johnny shoots a puzzled expression at Ten over his shoulder, black hair whipping from the movement. “Why would he ask us to come to his room just to make dinner plans?”

“Why not?”

“Anyway,” Mark begins, capturing their attention. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other before continuing. “When people reach a certain age, they start to develop… mature, I guess, is a better way to put it. Anyway, so, people mature at a certain age and they start to experience changes, thoughts and start _doing_ things because of these changes. They start to view people differently and start to get certain urges they didn’t have before, or something, and they start _doing_ things to satisfy these thoughts and urges, so, uh... God, I don’t know how to say this, but -”

“Oh my god.” Ten interrupts.

“I think he wants us to give them ‘the talk’, dude.” States Johnny, sending Mark into an embarrassed flush, tinting his face all the way to the tips of his ears a juvenile rouge. “Dude, it’s okay, I get it. You’re young, you’re a late bloomer; it happens. You can talk to Ten and I about these things together; you’re like a little brother to me.”

“You’re still young, so you probably missed out on proper high school sex ed class. Good thing we’re here.” As if Ten, of all people, is the most certified and capable to handle and teach such a topic. Johnny nods in affirmation. “We’re not at all qualified, but we’re here for you.”

“Mark, are you having any changes?” Johnny asks.

“Any thoughts or urges you want to share with us?” Ten adds excitedly, doubling Mark’s embarrassment.

Mark is quick to shut this down, raising his arms to form an ex at the wrists. “Okay, stop right there. No, I don’t want to have ‘the talk’ - Taeyong already gave me that - which was weird - and I don’t want talk about my body, thoughts, and urges.”

“He didn’t deny having thoughts and urges.” Ten points out to Johnny with a giggle, eliciting a snicker from him. They can be so annoying sometimes, Mark thinks, biting his lip.

Mark ultimately ignores them. “What I want to talk about is _you_ guys.”

“But I’m not going through puberty anymore.” Is Johnny’s flat response.

“Yeah, same.” Says Ten.

“No, not that. I don’t mean you guys and puberty. God, I have no clue how to explain this. Like, that thing people going through puberty and after think about and do lots? You know, the whole ‘ _when a man and a woman love each other_ ’ idea. That _thing_ people _do_ , you know?” Mark finds himself out of breath.

There is a long pause.

“You mean _fuck_?” Ten can be so uncomfortably blunt sometimes.

“You want to talk about _fucking_?” Johnny asks. Mark wishes they weren’t so vulgar about it, but there is no choice but to communicate with them on their level. A part of Mark somewhat nervous about the physical, carnal aspects of adulthood, but deeply appreciative of the soft, indirect way in which Taeyong referred to it. It was around Mark’s thirteenth birthday, when they were still trainees, when Taeyong’s voice kept cracking and Taeil wouldn’t stop teasing him for it. It was the year he grew two inches. ‘Doing it’ was how Taeyong addressed it, ‘sex’ only sometimes, but calling it for what it is even made Taeyong sweat as much as it made Mark visibly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, okay, fucking. That’s exactly what I want to talk about. ”

“Go on.” Pushes Johnny encouragingly, brotherly. Both he and Ten glance at Mark expectantly, supportively, ears opened as they await a response, one they were not prepared for. “Ten and I are older, so we have more experience with this kind of stuff if there’s anything on your mind.”

“Okay, so, uh…I don’t know how to say this, but...”

“Go on.”

“You guys _cannot_ be fucking on the kitchen counter.”

The three finds themselves in total silence, uncertain of how to continue or respond. Ten is the first to break this silence.  

“He’s right,” Ten agrees, much to Mark’s surprise, “because someone might catch us.”

“No,” Mark shakes his head furiously, “it’s because it’s gross, and I don’t want to see it.”

“Then don’t look.” Responds Ten breezily.

If only things were that simple.

“It’s hard to when you guys are doing it out in the open like that.” Mark can recall the incident with extraordinary clarity.

“Have you tried knocking before entering?”

The question stuns Mark momentarily. “Who the fuck knocks before going into the kitchen for water at two in the afternoon?”

“Me.”

“What the fuck. Why?”

“Because Yuta and Winwin hate it when I walk in on them.”

Mark blinks. “Jesus, okay, well, that’s another issue for another time. The point is, please, both of you, stop doing it in the kitchen.”

“So just stop fucking in the kitchen?” Johnny asks. It’s not until he speaks up that Mark realizes he’s remained silent for so long. The young man nods.

“Got it.” Nod Johnny and Ten, agreeing in unison.

“Okay, good, Now if you’ll excuse me, I… I’m just gonna go.” Mark turns to go into his closet behind him, taking out a medium-wash denim jacket. “I’ll catch you guys later. But please, no more fucking in the kitchen.”

“No fucking in the kitchen.” Both Johnny and Ten, again, reply in unison. Once is a coincidence, the second time is a bit off putting, but Mark is thankful the message has gotten across.

“Cool. Well, I’m going to catch up to Taeyong and Jaehyun. I’ll see you later.”

****

**13:35**

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we’re shitty?”

“Yeah. Well, I guess -” Shoving him abruptly, the back of Ten’s knees hitting the mattress as the two topple over, Johnny presses his body against the Thai man as they crash against the pristine white bed sheets. Ten’s lips curl as he giggles, matching the growing smile that reaches across Johnny’s previously placid expression. Leaning down, Johnny kisses him roughly, nipping impatiently at Ten’s bottom lip as if begging - _demanding_ \- for something sweet, something nice, something hot in return. Ten complies, his lips parting as he emits delighted groans from the base of his throat, body reacting immediately as he arches his back and grinds his hips upward, hands clawing at Johnny through the thick material of his heather grey hoodie. “We really are _that_ shitty, huh? I like to think we’re good people who just _happen_ to do _some_ shitty things.”

“Yeah, okay, but either way you love it.”

“So do you.”

“Of course I do - ‘shitty’ is just another way of say ‘fun.’” Ten’s laughter is light and refreshing to the senses. “How can I _not_ love it?”

“Well, it apparently got us caught by Mark in the kitchen -” Johnny is interrupted by the smash of Ten’s mouth against his. Ten moves his lips slowly, as if to coax him, hips rocking slowly, teasingly, feeling the slowly hardening flesh spring to life with a grin against Johnny’s mouth.

Their limbs tangle together as they grope and claw at each other feverishly, butterflies filling the pit of his muscular stomach as Johnny tears off Ten’s shirt and then his own, discarding them with a remiss toss over his shoulder before working on ridding them of their bottoms. Ten is about to scold him for the way Johnny makes a mess of the bedroom, crumpling the beautifully fixed sheets, throwing their pants and then their boxers to the floor without a second’s hesitation, but is cut off by the way their lips press together and the hand that reaches down to touch him, squeeze him, tease him. It makes him back arch up into Johnny’s hard torso, into the strong grip on his cock.

Grabbing him by his frail shoulders, Johnny uses his strength and some momentum to flip them over. The trade positions in the blink of an eye. He sighs at Ten perched atop his lap, thighs spread on either side of his own, attempting to fathom his gorgeous features, smiling at the adorable manner of surprise which rests upon Ten’s face.

“It fucks me up every time you move me around like that.” Ten says, blinking.

“Sorry, I just like it when you’re on top of me - when you sit on my lap like this. Makes me feel like I’m totally yours.” Replies Johnny.

“At least warn me next time.” Ten says flatly.

Johnny raises himself to rest his weight atop his elbows, which dig into the mattress beneath them. In his periphery, their clothes lay in crumpled heaps of disarray; their slippers and socks by the closet followed by their shirts soon after, their pants, Ten’s cap and Johnny’s flannel he had borrowed, and then everything else left between produces a mischievous trail leading closer to the bed where they sit, flustered and hot, staring at each other with great expectations.

Johnny’s erection is hard against his stomach, between Ten’s hands pressed against his abdomen. Ten glosses over the young man’s abdomen subconsciously with his thumbs and forefingers, relishing in the hearty muscle concealed by his soft skin. Ten’s touch is like fire against Johnny’s flesh, burning him and making him squirm, his ice-cold fingers slowly moving away from Johnny’s trembling stomach, up to his heaving chest, down to the head of his erection and then away again.

Johnny exhales shakily. He says, “God, we really shouldn’t, especially after that talk.”

“Why not?” Ten asks, cocking his head to the side. Johnny sits up completely to bring his lips to the corner of Ten’s mouth for a gentle peck and then steering away, downwards, creating a line of kisses and soft lips against the man’s jawline softly. Ten reacts almost immediately, and Johnny resists the urge to jump him right then and there, instead snaking an arm around the other’s small frame to pulling him close.

“Mark’s going to be pissed if he comes back to _this_.” Says Johnny as he pulls away. Ten’s arms come to wrap around his shoulders lazily.

“Why would he be pissed? He said ‘no more fucking in the kitchen’. We’re in a bedroom. Last time I checked, those were two very different things.”

“Point taken. But what if he walks in on us like _this_?”

“Does the door lock?”

Ten never fails to surprise him. Johnny chuckles. “Has anyone ever told you how smart you are?”

“No, but I don’t need to hear it to know it.” Ten is caught off by a moan rumbling in the back of his dry throat. Johnny has always been fond of his collarbones and the way they protrude subtly, shyly, greeting him warmly, and then retreating the next as he writhes and squirms against him. Ten flinches and tilts his head back reflexively, allowing Johnny to continue marking his territory upon his twitching skin, marring the innocent flesh with possessive hickies as he dips his tongue into the shallow crevice between Ten’s pulsing throat and harsh curve of his clavicle.

“Has anyone told you how fucking hot you are?” Johnny mumbles against Ten’s neck, grinding his erection against the young man. Ten’s cock spasms at the sound of Johnny’s voice, and against Johnny’s stomach, his abdomen and sparse treasure trail have become coated by a thin layer of precum. He brings his lips to kiss Ten’s cheek rougher than he means to.

Blushing, Ten counters, grinning, “No, but I don’t need to hear it to know it…” He trails off, giving Johnny’s erection a sudden squeeze, entertained by the way the man’s eyes roll back into his skull before shutting completely. “Do you want to lock the door or should I?”

****

**14:25**

**Taeyong (14:20):** You better hurry, the next showing is in half an hour

 **Mark (14:24):** Don’t sweat it I’m already on our floor  

 **Mark (14:25):** K, I’m inside. See you guys soon

 **Taeyong (14:25):** Hurryyyyyyy

Mark’s listening to Drake as he enters the dorm, kicking off his shoes as he turns into the hall on his left. He had forgotten his wallet atop his nightstand. Mark mouths the lyrics of “Motto” perfectly, a legendary rapper hailing from Canada, Drake’s music and flow never ceases spark inspiration in the young idol’s heart.

He had been halfway to the movie theatre to meet Taeyong and Jaehyun when he had noticed an unusual sensation of emptiness in his back pocket. Of course, leave it to him to forget something so essential and necessary at home.

After sending a quick text to update them, the two boys agreed to roam around a nearby shopping mall until Mark retrieved his wallet. Thankfully, it was still early enough to catch another showing. His bedroom is the second door on the right, the one directly across from the bathroom. Doyoung had claimed this one specifically, as, at times, he was prone to bouts of nausea after a change in medication.

He reaches for the door.

The door is locked.

“What the? Is Doyoung already back?”

He pulls out his left Airpod.

“Doyoung, are you in there?”

He pulls out his right Airpod.

Mark pauses, biting his lip. 

“This is not what I meant when I said ‘no fucking in the kitchen.’”

He prays that, at the very least, it’s not his bed they’re on.


	2. BONUS

**20:55**

**Doyoung (20:40):** MARK

 **Mark (20:43):**????

 **Mark (20:43):** What

 **Doyoung (20:45):** What did I say about not making your bed and leaving clothes on the floor?

 **Mark (20:45):** That I shouldn’t do it?

 **Mark (20:45):** And I don’t do it?

 **Doyoung (20:54):** I just got back to the dorm now and I saw this.

 **Doyoung (20:55):** _*SENT A PHOTO.*_

_Mark’s bed is in total disarray. His pillows are strewn about the floor, sheets barely clinging to the mattress._

**Doyoung (20:55):** _*SENT A PHOTO.*_

_A large plaid shirt and grey sweatpants poke from just beneath the bed by the closet. In the corner of the photo, at the foot of his bed, lay a pair of briefs with small American flags on it._

**Doyoung (20:55):** Your side of the room is a mess. You better clean it when you get back or so help me, you’re going to wish you never left Canada.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, as he passes a shot of soju to Mark.

“Nothing.” He answers. As Taeyong counts down from three, Mark downs his shot and steals Jaehyun’s, taking the two consecutively and cringing at the burn. Jaehyun’s mouth drops.

“Is something wrong?” Taeyong asks. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Mark says, opening a bottle of soju and chugging. He wipes the corner of his mouth. “Anyway, Taeyong, I heard something interesting about Yuta and Winwin you should probably be aware of.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something dumb. 
> 
> I also love clowning Mark.


End file.
